


Fade to black

by CrushedRose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Mycroft Feels, Sad, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:40:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushedRose/pseuds/CrushedRose
Summary: After the TFP events, Mycroft lost everything his job and power,  his parents blamed him for the betrayel of Euros.  Mycroft decided enough was enough and decided to end it all.  In a hope to atone for his sins he thinks the best way is to let them live without him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is sad, please know I am not romanticising suicide or death, I just think Mycroft is in a very bad place and instead of seeking help he using logic and rationality to validate his actions.
> 
> It is based on the song fade to black by metallica

** Fade to Black **

** **

** Chapter 1 **

 

 

_ Life, it seems, will fade away _

_ Drifting further every day _

_ Getting lost within myself _

_ Nothing matters, no one else _

_   _

_ I have lost the will to live _

_ Simply nothing more to give _

_ There is nothing more for me _

_ Need the end to set me free _

 

 

Now that the decision has been made, he felt more at ease, more than that a small part of him feels as if he can finally in some small way give retribution for his past mistakes.  It doesn't count the fact the he was just small boy himself, a teenager trying to find his way in life.  He was smart, that wasn't in dispute, no, he was without guidance and had to find a way, a path in this life, in this world and the situation he was in, on his own.

He knows people would think that he was just being too dramatic for his own good, but he wasn't, he was tired.  Just tired.  He tried, he gave it his all, he dedicated his life and it still wasn't enough.   Not after everything that had happened, not after everything he had lost. 

After the whole incident at Sherringford he was on thin ice.  Ironic really, the Ice-Man dancing on thin ice, any moment he would slip and the ice would break drowning him.  He couldn't let that happen so he decided to take matters in his own hands. 

It didn't help that he apologized to Lady Smallwood on so many occasions, that thin thread of connections became thinner, almost like the web of a spider, can only see it when light reflects it or when you tangle yourself in it.  In this case, he got tangled up. 

"I'm sorry about this Mycroft."   Her voice was soft filled with regret but strong.  Mycroft looked up at her, the corners of his mouth upturned in cynical smile.

"I know."  He replied as he handed her the documents.

She took the file with the usb on top, noticing how her hands were steady, yet Mycroft's long pale fingers were slightly trembling.  "This is the last, isn't it?" 

He nodded sharply, and pulled his hands back to the table.

"Yes, all my current files, plans and projects.  The passwords along with the necessary footnotes."  He glanced at the desk it was empty from all the Top Secret files he was busy with; his security clearance has been reduced.  He let his sister took over a maximum security prison without any hint or idea, how can they expect him to be trusted with something as National Security?

"They will be replaced and renamed in the next fifteen minutes."

"I know it was my decision to implement it."  He was tired of everything. He wanted to go home.  She sighed and sat down.

"I'm sorry about this.  It wasn't my decision."

"I know we all have always been the diligent foot soldiers to the Crown.  I don't blame you."  He meant it, it wasn't her fault, and it was his.  To be honest, he was going to miss this office, not the current atmosphere though; it was still filled with the echoes of his parents disdain and blame.  "Limited." Mummy called him, he was many things but he never ever was limited, until now.  They hardly left when Lady Smallwood came in, demoting him.  He knew it was going to happen, he expected it sooner, but can only deduce that Lady Smallwood tried to find another way, trying to help him.  There was a reason she was assigned the name 'Love' but just as love is, sometimes love can be cruel - just like his original thought about Euros, he acted out of kindness, love and compassion turns out it was wrong.  Love sometimes just isn't love at all. 

She seemed to accept it before she turned to leave.

"I need to be going."  He got up and greeted her.   She walked to the door before turning around.

"I will still call upon you for help, if that is okay?" 

He put on his most sincere smile. 

"Of course." 

He waited till the door closed behind her before he sagged down in his chair.  One down, several to go. 

The past few weeks have been one hell of a rollercoaster for him and try as he might, he just couldn't let it go.  The secrets were out, the truth out and once again the weight of it all is on his shoulders.  In all honesty he was fed up with carrying it all.

He lifted his phone to contact Anthea for the car when he stopped.  She has been reassigned; he will need to find his own way home now.  He squared his shoulders, its fine, he can do it. Picking up his trusted umbrella he made his way out the building without paying attention to the people around him, he had other things on his mind. 

A small part of him wanted to call Sherlock to make sure he was all right but decided against that.  They may have gone through Sherringford together but they are nowhere close to being tight brothers.  There is a new understanding between them, but some scars run too deep to be healed overnight – if at all.

The whole trip home was filled with the words of 'how the mighty have fallen' and it is in his little sister's voice.  That haunting shrilly little voice of his sister.  She won, after all these years, after everything she still won. 

 

_ Things not what they used to be _

_ Missing one inside of me _

_ Deathly lost, this can't be real _

_ Cannot stand this hell I feel _

_   _

_ Emptiness is filling me _

_ To the point of agony _

_ Growing darkness taking dawn _

_ I was me, but now he's gone _

 

 

The house was empty, like always, but ever since Sherlock and John's little dramatics, the house feels haunted too.  Well good thing he had decided to end things.  First things first, he has a few days off, so that would give him all the time he needed to arrange everything.  Right now, he wanted a hot bath and some rest, if he was fortunate enough to get some.  His nightmares have increased recently. 

 

The next morning he woke up, another night of nightmares and screams, he was so used to it.  Having a quick breakfast he took a pen and some colored stickers and started in the furthest room, everything with a red sticker needed to be thrown away or given to charity, either way he wants it gone.  Blue stickers should go to Sherlock; there were only two stickers; his umbrella and the family movie with them.  His heart ached to see Sherlock hugging him like that again, but it was a feeble wish that he should just forget.  Whatever Sherlock wants to do with it is up to him. He himself doesn’t care anymore; the pain and hurt to watch that will just broke what little he has left.

His progress was quick and short, he already knew what to do with everything, and it was just a matter of putting the stickers everywhere.   The portraits, it was still blood stained but he couldn't care, one part of him wanted to give it just like that back to his parents, they can deal with it, and Sherlock can explain why it was ruined, the other part said no, it won’t be fair.  They ended up with no stickers.

 

MHMHMHMH

 

Two days later the house was empty, or nearly empty, he kept his bed and wardrobe and a sofa along with a table, the rest he didn’t need, even the cupboards were empty, it is highly unlikely that he needed a new table cloth or bed sheets for the spare room.  The walls were still covered with portraits but he was still undecided.  On the third day he felt that he could face the outside world again, making a few calls to several solicitors and a few other people the documents were drawn up and ready for collection in an hour. It would be perfect, it would give him enough time to get dressed and make all the necessary arrangement for his trip.  It was after another half an hour when he realized he had no idea where his brother was, he wasn’t privy to the information anymore and since they have never shared anything he would need to call him.   The thing was he wasn’t ready to talk yet so texting it was.

** “I would like to meet you this afternoon, can we meet somewhere? MH” **

_ “No. SH” _

** “Sherlock, please, there were several changes made on the trust and I need to give you the documents MH.” **

_ “Don’t care. SH” _

** “I added Dr. Watson and his child; you care about them don’t you? MH” **

_ “I’ll be at Baker Street the whole afternoon. SH” _

** “Thank you. MH” **

There was no reply, not that he didn’t expect it, after everything that had happened, he still meant next to nothing to his brother, he can’t really blame him.  Doctor John Watson on the other hand, Sherlock will drain the ocean if you ask him to do that for John.  A small part of him wished that he could have just ten percent, even five percent of that dedication from Sherlock.  Still, it won’t be a problem for much longer.  Since he was still off, he didn’t bother with the whole suit, he was too tired to care, and too despondent to make an effort.  He didn’t even bother with his umbrella, the need wasn’t there anymore.  He still wore his black slacks, a white button down and his blazer, no waistcoat, pocket watch and the rest of the armor. He was defeated; the war is over, the battle lost so the armor wasn’t needed. 

 

_ No one but me can save myself, but it's too late _

_ Now I can't think, think why I should even try _

 

 

Baker Street was in the process of being repaired after the explosion the door was open so he made his way upstairs.  Sherlock and John were discussing new furniture and he could hear the small garble of the baby.  It was so domestic, his brother finally turned into the man they all thought he would.  The last time he was coming down the stairs he saved Mrs. Hudson after his sister blew them up.   He probably should try to amend things with her as well, he sighed, he didn’t want to, he was good enough to fix her place time after time when Sherlock ran too many dangerous experiments or shot up the wall, he was good enough to make sure she wasn’t arrested for her diving skills, he was good enough for everything else, except being Sherlock’s brother.

He stepped into the room and Sherlock immediately turned to him.  John followed his gaze and all three men were momentarily frozen.  Mycroft for seeing his little brother holding a baby girl and she were smiling and very comfortable.  His heart ached. The only thing he ever wanted to see was his little brother happy and here he was; finally happy.  A small part once again wished he could see his brother as she got older, the way she was going to be protected by these two men, she was more blessed and lucky than most.

Sherlock and John stared at Mycroft, John had never seen Mycroft so relaxed and at ease.  He looked so different from what he is used to and admittedly it took him by surprise.  It was a side he didn't know Mycroft had and he felt more at ease, he could get use to Mycroft like this, it made him less like a machine and more human.   Sherlock tried to remember the last time he saw his brother like this in his casual clothes.  He couldn't.  He was without his umbrella, he was without his usual look was missing and it was a bit disconcerting. Rosie gave a sharp gargle and it broke the tension.

"Good afternoon Sherlock, Dr. Watson, thank you for seeing me, I'll be quick."  Without waiting for an answer he walked over to the nearest surface and put the file down.  Sherlock and John glanced at each other before they walked over to him. 

"This new Trust is set in place in the event of the passing of either of you.  After Sherringford and the security breach I transferred and updated everything with a new firm."  He congratulated himself on his steady voice, firm and to the point. 

"What do you mean 'either of us' I thought it was Sherlock's Trust?"  John asked as he looked at Mycroft not the papers. 

"Sherlock called you family, you have always been more his family than I ever was Dr. Watson..."  Sherlock frowned and narrowed his eyes behind his brother but didn't say anything.  "...and after everything that had happened, my brother needs someone who can help him to manage the Trust, as you are family, you are included now as well, so is your daughter."  John looked surprised and turned to the papers for the first time.

"Me and Rosie?"

"Yes, you have full access to the Trust to give her anything she need; you and Sherlock just needs to provide the necessary documents and the money will be released."  Mycroft didn't dare to look at his brother; he really does not feel in the mood for a mental and observation game now.  John looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing comes to mind.  After he glanced at all the documents he turned to Mycroft who stood next to him, a pen in his hand.

"Please sign at all the necessary places, you too Sherlock...”  He added glancing over his shoulder. "...So I can submit it and get out of your hair." 

"What about you?"  John finally asked taking the pen.  Mycroft turned to John, showing his confusion.

"What about me?"

"I don't see your name on here."  John provided waving his hand over the paper.  Sherlock stepped closer at that, he wasn't aware of that.

"It is because I am not in that Trust, this is for the three of you, besides setting it up and arranging everything I will have no power or influence over any of this."  Sherlock and John stood next to each other, both staring at him.  Rosie was looking at Mycroft with big eyes.

"Why not?"  Sherlock asked.

"Because you are old enough to do your own thing and as you always wished for my distance, for me to stop my meddling I am giving you what you want."  Mycroft said, swift and steady, he looked at both of them and then at the room, most of the debris has been taken away, oh that reminds him.  He turned back to them.

"The repairs of Baker Street are also fully paid for, but it is not out of the Trust, or Mrs. Hudson's account, tell he that would you?"

"Tell her yourself."  Sherlock provided and saw the slight flinch Mycroft gave. 

"What happened?  Did you say something to her?" Mycroft opened his mouth to answer when he was interrupted.

"No, she said something to him."  John said and they turned to him, Mycroft had a pleading look in his eyes, he didn't want his brother to know what she really thinks of him.  Sherlock looked at John the question clear.

"What did she said to him?"

"Really... it’s not necessary."  Mycroft tried, waving his hand as if to wave the conversation away but Sherlock ignored him.  John glanced at Sherlock before he looked back at Mycroft.

"When you were in hospital after Smith, he tried to find out why you relapsed and how to do his usual thing trying to help you and ‘meddling’ as you like to say, when we found the DVD with Mary and she chased everyone out.  Mycroft stayed, hoping to watch it so he knew what was going on, but she chased him away, calling him a reptile."  Mycroft set his jaw and lowered his head, he couldn't look either of them in the eye, John was right, he tried to stay, he didn't know why Sherlock relapsed and took the drugs, he didn't know how to help him, he didn't know what to do, and he was desperate.  He needed to leave, he needed air, he was tired of all this, but it is okay, he doesn't have to hold on for much longer.  The room was silent no one spoke except for Rosie making noises. 

"You saved her life."  Sherlock voice was soft as he remembered the explosion.  Mycroft decided to come clean.

"She hates me Sherlock, and I don't blame her, I have never given her a reason that I actually cared about you and the I meddled because I didn't know how else to help you, you didn't want my help, you never did and I promised I would look after you, my methods weren't good, I'll admit it, the truth is however she never liked me." 

"But...”

"No buts.  Just sign the documents; you didn't want me here in the first place, until I told you this concern Dr. Watson and his daughter too, so let’s not pretend you actually care and I won’t pretend everything is fine and we are all moving on, so please sign the papers so I can leave."  That was the wrong thing to say as he recognized that look his brother gave, stubbornness. Well as he said, he wasn't in the mood to play games anymore.  He wasn't in the mood for anything anymore.  Mrs. Hudson hates him, John dislikes him with a passion, Euros wished he was never born, only wanted Sherlock, his parents thinks he is a failure, Sherlock thinks he is his archenemy, he lost his position and power, his job pretty much and he was done. 

"No. I think you should stay."  John and Mycroft turned to Sherlock.

"Why Sherlock?"  Mycroft asked his voice losing the hard edge, and a crack in the icy façade brought in some defeat in his voice.  They look at one another before Rosie started crying.  Sherlock immediately turned to her and John stepped closer.  Their focus was on her and Mycroft stood the side, watching them caring for her.  It was time he left.  He needed the documents thought.  On the other hand he can just let them take it the firm themselves, after all it was time.  Using the envelope as a notepad he wrote _'Don't stab it against the wall!_ ' leaving his pen there he slowly made his way out.  John took out the bottle and handed it to Sherlock who looked up to saw his brother was gone, the front door opened and closed and he rushed to the window.  He wanted to yell at his brother but what he saw stopped him.  Mycroft stood in the middle of the pavement, his head bowed down.  He looked up to the street before his shoulders sagged and then he turned around and walked away.  There was no car, there was no security.  Sherlock looked up and down the street, the cameras were steady, and not following him, there was no black car picking him up and no one following him at a distance.  His brother was alone and unprotected.  He wasn't wearing his suit, or his umbrella.  A heavy weight fell on his shoulders.   He couldn't figure out what that meant, the only thing that came to mind, was that his brother was what, demoted?  Fired? That can’t be.  Not a man like Mycroft.   When Rosie gave another yell he turned back to her, he could figure this out later.

 

_ Yesterday seems as though it never existed _

_ Death greets me warm, now I will just say goodbye _

 

Mycroft made his way home, the walk did him good and admittedly it was the only exercise he got in the last few days.  He didn't worry about that anymore, it didn't matter. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft trade his suicide for a sacrifice

**Fade to black**

 

**Chapter 2**

 

 

 

Mycroft made his way home, the walk did him good and admittedly it was the only exercise he got in the last few days. He didn't worry about that anymore, it didn't matter. Since his kitchen was empty he decided on take out for some dinner as well and since he didn't need to check his diet he decided to get some ice-cream for desert as well. A little indulgence every now and then does have its privileges. The whole evening the day's event played in his mind and he couldn't help but smile when he saw Sherlock with Rosie, it was the same smile he got when he saw the family video them at a beach. He lifted his arms and looked down, he couldn't remember the last time he hugged his brother - and holding him up when he was dragging him out of a drug den doesn't count. He really wished he could hug his brother one last time, to feel him in his arms and know he is going to be all right. 

 

Since he had nothing to do, he thought he should get an early night, he hasn't slept well since everything came tumbling down. His brother seemed genuinely surprised that he wasn't in the Trust, he has his own now. Not really but he did took his share and put it separate, he is not sure what to do with it, half is definitely going to Anthea, she deserves it after all these years, he really felt bad that he couldn't greet her properly, maybe he can ask Lady Smallwood. The other half... some charity maybe. He still has a few days to decide. He must have fallen asleep somewhere during the night because when he opened his eyes it was daylight and his phone was ringing. Lady Smallwood.

"Lady Smallwood." He greeted his voice firm and awake after years of practice he was still skilled.

"Good morning Mycroft. I am sorry for calling you in your off time, but I need some help with a situation."

"Anything, do you want me to come in?" He frowned; situation has several meaning and all of them not well, not if she called him in. He, who no longer has the security clearance to help.

"If you wouldn't mind my private office." They both knew which one she meant, he closed his eyes a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. 

"I will be there shortly." They hang up without saying goodbye and Mycroft got ready, for the first time in several days he put on his three piece suit, whatever the problem, he needed his full armor. Picking his umbrella he looked at himself in the nearby mirror, Mycroft Holmes was ready for whatever he needed to do. To his surprise when he opened the door there was a black car waiting for him. Not his, hers. With steady steps he walked towards the car and got in. 

 

mhmhmhmh

 

Two hours, he has been in her office for two hours trying to help her, trying to find a solution to this problem. The fact is, there was only two ways and both of them required someone to be involved, to go to this desert laden country and talk to the person. The problem is that whoever goes, most likely will not return and she knew it. She came to the same conclusion but just as she tried to save Mycroft, she was trying to save the undecided person from this fate. Mycroft sighed. He needed to be ‘Antarctica’ once more and make the hard decisions. This is actually perfect t it came as the proverbial blessing in disguise; it was the perfect way to go. Not by suicide, but by sacrifice. It would be sooner than he anticipated but still, he already got rid of his furniture and most of his policies and stuff, he just has the small matter of the other 50% of his Trust and then he will be sorted. He put the file back on the table and folded his hands. 

"I'll go." Lady Smallwood dropped the small biscuit she picked up, her eyes wide as saucers as she looked at him. 

"Mycroft..." It was the first time he heard her voice losing that strong sound and he felt guilty, they have been working together for years now, and out of everyone here they always had a better understanding of one another than with the rest. It was going to be hard on her, but he didn't have a choice.

"We both know that is the only option, that the best way to minimize the damage is for one of us to be there. Out of all the operatives, I stand the best chance." 

"Your survival rate..."

"Nonexistent."

"It would be a death sentence." She whispered and he smiled in his usual way, no emotion in it.

"I..." He dropped his head and looked back up, the mask gone.

"You once said we are friends, can I be frank?" She nodded, not trusting her voice, she was smart and had a pretty good idea what he was going to say, she knew the position he was in, with his job, his family, his brother...sister... She understands his reasoning. She didn’t like it, but he was always meticulous in his reasoning and logical process. And to stubborn to allow an alternative.

"I already lost everything; we both know I will never be the strong powerful man I used to be, not after everything that had happened. Sherringford is out of my jurisdiction, my parents probably won’t ever forgive me for the betrayal, Sherlock still hates my presence and if I have any chance of rectifying the situation it would be good. In a small way this way I can atone for my sins – however small that may be. As for the agency. I was - am - the best." 

"And if you die?"

"Then as I clarified years ago, no flowers." That was it, no more trying to talk him out of it, just a matter of arranging his temporary reinstatement that allowed him to go on this trip, this mission. A suicide mission. It wasn’t fair.

 

A week. 

 

He leaves in a week. 

 

Now that he has a set date, he was somehow able to be more at peace, more calm about everything. he also had decided about the other 50% It should've been obvious, the one person who never asked for anything, the one man who did his job, who cared for Sherlock out of love and the goodness of his heart, not because he got something out of it - that only came later. He will make sure his brother's friends and family was taken care off.

To his surprise Lady Smallwood arranged for him to go to Sherringford with his parents and Sherlock to see his sister. It was kindness, she was allowing him to say goodbye to them, all of them together once more before the family is being broken apart. He accepted it.

 

mhmhmh

 

It was wonderful to see; his little brother and sister playing together, a beautiful melody that testified about the years of pain, of the heartache but also of hope, a new beginning. Mycroft felt his heart constrict with the emotions, he was responsible for this pain, this heartache and he doesn't deserve to be part of the new beginning of the hope. He glanced at his hand, clasped in his mother's. She got her daughter back, but she is about to lose a son. Then again, it was the son that was responsible for everything. He stayed behind a brief moment to look at his sister, her eyes were staring ahead. He stepped closer to the glass his hand touching the cold surface.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye." He whispered and turned around following his parents and brother out. The helicopter ride was quiet every now and then his mom and dad would talk to Sherlock commenting on the music or Euros, or the next visit. They ignored him. They still blame him, their 'limited son'. Sherlock would once or twice glance at him, willing him to say something but he didn't. He had nothing to add, not anymore.

He did however turn to them before their car took them back to the Baker Street to see the flat and repairs and to pick up John and Rosie before they were to have dinner. Mycroft wasn't invited. They wanted 'one on one time' with Rosie and John. 

"Mummy, Father. Will you ever forgive me?" He asked them straightforward; Sherlock look up at him Mycroft ignored him.

"Mycroft..." Mycroft, not Mycie, which is telling in itself. 

"This was a very mean thing you did; do you have any idea how much that hurts?" 

"Not as much as finding out your daughter is a serial killer and your other son is a drug addict I'm sure." He closed his eyes, he talked without thinking and all the hope he had to get forgiveness before he died, died away.

"Mycroft!" He father and Sherlock cried out together. 

"I'm sorry." He replied. His mother stepped closer.

"You keep saying that and I have no idea whether you meant it." Mycroft nearly broke down right there, his eyes filled with tears and Sherlock open his mouth to stand up for his brother, he could see that comment was breaking him. Before he could say anything his mother went on. He was fifteen, doesn’t that count for something? He himself was just a boy that had to grow up overnight. His mom squeezed his hand, bringing him back to focus.

"Probably one day, we will be okay, but it will take time, time heals everything and I'm really glad that I have all my children back together but it will take a while before we will be okay again. I'm sorry Mycroft; it is the best I can give you right now."

He wanted to yell at them he doesn't have the time, time heals nothing because in all his years alive, all this time since she killed Victor and was taken away, all this years of trying to help her healed nothing. All the years he was forced to make the hard decisions, the day he was force to be the grown up, the fifteen year old boy with the dark secret healed absolutely nothing. Instead he resigned himself to her words, to know that he will die without their forgiveness. They still need to know that he loves them and he doesn't hold it against them.

"I understand. I will wait patiently for the day we can be a proper family again." With a quick nod she got into the car, his dad following. Mycroft memorized them, this would be the last time he sees them. He looked up at Sherlock who was staring at him. He stared back, he wanted to say so many things to his brother yet he didn't. 

"Come on Sherlock." Their mother's voice came out from the car and Sherlock looked down to her, when he looked back up Mycroft had turned around and was walking away. 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I

** Fade to black **

** Chapter 3 **

 

The place was warm and sunny and windy and he hated it.  Still he was here for a reason.  The negotiations weren't going well, and he knew it would be futile, there will be at least one attack in this town before the negotiations will be fruitful.  The all knew that the attack was going to be from the opposition, the rebels.  Mycroft was counting on this attack, if he dies in this attack England would be forced to get involved and neutralized the threat.  The problem was they couldn't move without a casualty, and he is going to be the casualty. 

The morning he woke up and took extra care with his appearance, just like back at the island when Sherlock held the gun to him, and he fixed his tie.  Death was ugly and undignified, but he will do anything to look as dignified as possible.  They will remember him as the man in his suit.  He didn't have his umbrella with him that was at home with a sticker on.  For Sherlock. 

 

Mhmhmh

 

He did all he could, and he knew it was more that they all hoped for.  Lady Smallwood will have this man's allegiance forever. 

Still he told the man that there might be an attack today, he deduced either someone will throw a grenade at them as the leave or it will be a shooting attack and he suggested that he takes another way home, something a little inconspicuous as his usual car.  He agreed however to keep up appearances his car would be empty as it was driven down the street.  His entire plan, Mycroft followed in his own car to keep the façade.  They would reach the junction with the attack in ten minutes.  He shouldn't be but couldn't help it - he wasn't nervous yet his hands were trembling - he lifted his phone and dialled.

"Mycroft?"  Lady Smallwood voice betrayed her anxiety.

"All arranged, he would follow you and listen to you, on his way home, the decoy car is in front of me, and an imminent attack is inevitable and would most likely happen in the next nine minutes." 

"Mycroft..."  She tried but he stopped her.

"Keep an eye on Sherlock, and tell DI Lestrade personally about the Trust and you can even play him the recording of our conversation, the same with Anthea, tell her I'm sorry that it had to end like this, and if you can give her a position under you, she knows my methods and would be best choice.  She would help you much more than anyone else would."

"I will. Promise.  Mycroft... there are so many things I want to say to you...”

"I know.  It was a pleasure working with you Alecia."

"You too."  They didn't say goodbye but took a moment of silence before they hang up the phone. Five minutes.  He gave himself thirty minutes to contemplate before he dialled again.

"God, you hate texting don't you?"  The deep voice nearly broke him.  He could feel the walls around him breaking, this was it, the last time he would hear that voice and he wanted to tell him that he loves him, his little brother.   He didn't want to go out crying but he was close.  His brother's voice was the most beautiful sound he heard all day.

"Mycroft?"  Mycroft didn't answer he couldn't, he knew if he was to open his mouth he would say something that would alert his brother.  Still his silence will be even more of a give-away.

"Did you sign those documents?"  He ended up asking.  He could practically feel Sherlock's eye roll and smiled. 

"You still owe me an explanation about that."

"Yes I do, but it will all become clear soon."  Sherlock will know, after his death that he made sure his little brother was protected.

"What do you mean?"

"Secrets don't stay secret Sherlock.  you will understand soon enough and while we are on the subject of  secrets, I am sorry I kept the secrets I did from you, my only priority was keeping you safe but know that I know you are more than capable of dealing with things life hands you, I should've come clean.  You need to know you were never a pressure point for my weakness, but my biggest strength and I wanted to keep you safe as long as possible."

"What is going on?"  Mycroft cringed, he shouldn't have called his brother, and he is on to him.  He could hear it, Sherlock was thinking.  He needs to hang up; he has four minutes left and wants to have his last moment in silence.

"Nothing, Sherlock I'm about to go into a meeting in Karbala, I will talk to you soon."  Without waiting for an answer he hang up the phone, he shouldn't have said the town, the attack will be on the news within the hour and Sherlock will know, he knows he will.  Well too late know.

 

Sherlock called back but he didn't answer, instead he ignored the call and switched the phone off. Taking out the sim card he broke it in half just as they were taught and took the phone apart, throwing pieces out the window.  Checking his watch he noticed that he had two minutes left, he started the countdown in his head:

120

He made the necessary arrangements for his house, the furniture everything Lady Smallwood would take of the last things, except those with stickers and the portraits, they were still bloodstained. 

115

He wondered what would Sherlock do with the home videos and with his umbrella - probably destroy it in an experiment, John would love to see the gun, and he knows that.

110

Would Mrs. Hudson be glad? He would most certainly never enter her home now, the reptile who she hated.

105

He really hoped Detective Inspector Lestrade enjoys his little nest egg; he deserved it after everything the Holmes brother put him through.

100

Maybe Sherlock would find a way to stab the umbrella against the wall as well.   The blade most certainly, John will keep the gun and the blade probably in the wall.

95

Lady Smallwood was in a way his only friend in his job environment, she will do well, she must just keep Anthea next to her, those two women will rule the world if given the chance.  He would have loved to see that, those two powerful women.

90

It was a beautiful sunny die, as the saying goes, a good die to die.

85

If John keeps the gun on the umbrella, Sherlock will need to find him matching bullets.  Sherlock will, his little brother can be resourceful if needed.

80

Anthea will do so well, he wrote a letter that Alecia will give to her, explaining everything and she will forgive him after her little nest egg. 

75

He hopes his parents will be okay, strange how the buried their youngest first, then the middle one, all fake and now their eldest - for real.

70

Alecia better honour his request for no flowers.

65

Sherlock is going to be such an amazing father for Rosie, he wished he could see them together, her first day of school, the deduction he will teach her, the violin lessons. 

60

One minute left. 

Closing his eyes he went into his mind palace, closing the windows, locking the doors as he made his way out.  Leaving it for the last time.  He just stepped out the front door, locking it when the air became quiet.  That millisecond before all hell breaks loose.  He opened his eyes and watched as the car in front of him exploded with fire.  The shock shattered the windows in his car and he could hear the rumbling of the fire, the yelling of the pedestrians.  He worked on instinct opening the door to get out, the driver was slumped forward and Mycroft pulled him out.  He needed to get back in the car he would rather go quickly.  It happened so fast and so slow at the same time, he turned around to go back to the car when the grenade hit it, the force lifting him off his feet and threw him several meters away just the shrapnel of the car impacted on his chest.  He fell on the ground the force knock the little of air left.  His mouth opened in shock, his breath lacking.  He could hear the noise around him but didn't care; he looked down to his chest and saw the black pinstripe with the red tie ripped shards of metal and glass and his blood covering his front.  He didn't feel it, his mind and body was in shock, he looked up to the sky, bright blue skies and it reminded him of his little brother. 

"I love you brot...her... m..i..ne..." He choked out before closing his eyes.

 

mhmhmh

 

The news of an attack reach London within the hour, Sherlock didn't saw it as he was rocking Rosie asleep, his mind on his brother.  He needed to talk to him, something was wrong.  John came home and they had dinner without turning the radio or telly on.  As promised Lady Smallwood didn't call Sherlock to give him the news, she went over there herself.  Mrs. Hudson was reluctant to open the door, usually it was Mycroft, but even she knew something was wrong. 

Sherlock and John were unpacking some papers when she stepped in, Sherlock knew.  He just knew.

"NO!"  He bellowed.  John tried to tell him not to yell, he'll wake Rosie but he didn't care.  He marched towards her.  She stared him down her eyes betraying her pain, her mouth a thin line as she watched him.  He towered over her his voice cracking like ice.

“No.”

Without waiting for an answer he went into his room and shut the door.  The door slammed echoing in the air.  John stood there confused; Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen her hands wringing a napkin.

"What happened?"  John asked the military stance back, the demanding voice.  Lady Smallwood look at him, the door, Mrs. Hudson then down.

"Mycroft Holmes died today."

 

mhmhmh

 

Sherlock refused to believe it until he saw the body, so two days later at five in the morning the plane landed with his brother’s body,  at seven Sherlock was standing in the morgue, his posture rigid, he hasn't said a word to anyone ever since the news.  His eyes were red, his face pale.  John stood next to him.  It was some kind of joke, it had to, there was no way that the great Mycroft Holmes was dead. 

They were called in and Sherlock's step faltered as he saw the body on the table, a long white silhouette, looking fragile for some reason.  A white sheet resting over him.  The attendee lifted his hands to pull the sheet away but Sherlock stopped him, instead he reached out and pulled it away.  His hands shook as he lifted the sheet, his eyes falling on his brothers' body, the pale, nearly translucent skin, the lips blue, the eyes closed, the auburn hair a dark contrast to his skin, he pulled the sheet further down, his chest riddled with holes and stabbed wounds from the glass and shrapnel, the red lines dark against the pale up and down of his chest, the ribs protruding, he was underweight when he died. 

He didn't know for how long he stood there, but it didn't matter because his brother didn't wake up.  Sherlock was the eldest know, he was the big brother now, he was the adult one now, the responsible one. 

 

mhmhmh

The funeral was small, only their parents, John, Greg, Anthea and Lady Smallwood were there.  Sherlock stood next to his parents.  Greg was standing on his own. 

There were no flowers. 

 

mhmhmh

It took Sherlock a month to step into his brother's house and knew his brother planned it, he could see it in the way the house was empty, he could see it the fact that only his bed and wardrobe was left, he most certainly knew it when there were two items on the bed both with stickers on with his name, the family video and his umbrella.  The handle cold to the touch, a slight layer of dust on both the objects.  He ran out of the house but stumbled in the hallway his eyes caught the blood stained portrait and Sherlock yelled until his voice was hoarse. 

 

mhmhmh

Sherlock has been missing two days, Lady Smallwood told him everything, how Mycroft was hoping to redeem himself.  To his work, to his family, but most of all to his brother.  John found him, sitting across the black marble stone sleeping.  On the ground next to Sherlock’s hand was a folded paper held down by single dark red rose.  John picked it up and opened the letter.  It was in Sherlock’s handwriting.  It was a list.  John only read the first line  _‘How I miss my brother.’_   He couldn’t read the rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to save him somehow, maybe one day I will.


End file.
